


The Fox and The Hound

by FourLeaves413



Series: The Fox and The Hound [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Aftercare, Baby's first post, Body Worship, Charon's POV, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hopeful Ending, How Do I Tag, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Porn with Feelings, So you know there's gotta be a LITTLE angst, Vaginal Fingering, but not a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourLeaves413/pseuds/FourLeaves413
Summary: Victoria wasn't a simple woman by any definition of the word. How Charon felt about her was even more complicated. But, he supposed, even complex people have simple needs, and though it might hurt, he was happy to help fulfill hers.
Relationships: Charon (Fallout)/Female Lone Wanderer, Charon (Fallout)/Lone Wanderer
Series: The Fox and The Hound [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855591
Comments: 21
Kudos: 93





	The Fox and The Hound

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published work, and it's porn with feelings, go figure.

Charon had learned that Victoria was a simple woman. She didn't take any shit from anybody, and had a habit of shooting first and asking questions later. She had learned very quickly that in the wasteland, being a conventionally pretty young woman could be exploited, and she often called him to help her in her schemes. Many of his previous employers had been idiots, but it was apparent from the first day that Victoria wasn't like any of his previous employers.

Charon had trouble figuring her out at first, not that he was trying particularly hard- he tried not to get attached to his employers- but she hated slavery, that much was clear. Charon, as much as he'd been trained to avoid having an opinion, thought it was a admirable trait. He appreciated it most in the way she treated him, not as a utility, but a companion, a friend. She was hellbent on freeing every slave she set eyes on, and she had made it her personal goal to put a bullet between every slaver's eyes.

And so she did. Charon couldn't believe it, but after some months, slavers started disappearing from the capital wasteland. Many ran, but most found their end with a .50 caliber bullet sized hole in the head. Victoria's weapon of choice was a sniper rifle, and clean headshots were her signature, as clear as if she'd left a note in her frivolous, useless, beautiful handwriting.

The only thing more deadly than her aim was her voice. The fox could charm the pants off anyone stupid enough to listen- man, woman or otherwise- and Charon had seen her do it more than once. She had no qualms with using her body to get what she wanted. For a reason Charon refused to think about, he didn't like it when she took people to bed. He told himself it was because he couldn't be around to guard her, that was all. But he'd feel a twinge of pity the morning after- never for the person she'd conned, but for Victoria herself. Where those she'd seduced wore a telling, satisfied afterglow, she was no different than the day before- perhaps a little more curt even. It was clear that she knew exactly what she was doing, and didn't let herself enjoy it. To "keep a clear head," she'd probably say if Charon ever had the balls to ask her, as if she would ever answer.

It wasn't fair. The thought startled Charon when it came to his mind the first time. He knew all about unfairness, he was a glorified slave. There were few certainties in the wasteland, but it would always ring true that life wasn't fair. So why did he care if it wasn't fair to her?

As much as he'd begrudgingly come to care for her over the months, Charon decided very adamantly not to have an opinion on the effectiveness of her methods. Whatever her goals, she accomplished them with a stubbornness that would put a testy brahmin to shame. She was ruthless to those in her way, and unusually good-natured to those she deemed innocent and benign, and it was difficult not to admire her for that.

So maybe Victoria wasn't a simple woman. But she still had simple needs.

When on the road, she liked to sleep with some point of contact, either to Charon himself, or Dogmeat, or both. It had taken Charon some getting used to. Smoothskins didn't just- touch ghouls, especially not when they wanted to feel safe. But Victoria never shied away from his ragged skin, or milky glare, or ruined voice. She'd clap him on the back after a job well done, grab his hand to help him to his feet after a close fight, hell, she'd picked shrapnel and buckshot from his back without any sign of disgust. She treated him like a person, and as much as Charon knew he shouldn't, he was getting used to it. She rarely gave him an order, and when she did, they were either genuinely accidental or of great importance. She told him to speak freely and speak up when he had advice. His conditioning still pulled him to protect her during every fight, but there was little outside that. With Ahzrukal, he'd been a slave. With Victoria, he was a simple bodyguard-

-Which made it difficult to sleep out in the wasteland when she took watch.

He rarely got any sleep on the road, but he never told her that. She would worry, and Charon had thought to himself for a while that she should never have to worry about him. She had bigger and better things to concern herself with. He thought this to himself every night she took watch with one foot against his leg or arm somewhere as he dozed, floating just above sleep.

It was during one of these dozes that she inhaled a shaky breath through her nose. Charon didn't move a muscle, and instead listened for something she may have seen. A pack of super mutants? A deathclaw? Something as simple as a molerat?

His shotgun was less than a foot from his head, he could have it ready and aimed in-

Victoria sighed unevenly. Charon didn't dare open his eyes even though he wasn't facing her. Sometimes she broke down crying late at night, it was nothing terribly unusual. The faint, continuous shifting of fabric caught his ears. That was... More unusual. Her foot twitched just slightly, then drew back from where it touched his calf. Unexpectedly, he missed it immediately. He'd never realized how much he'd grown used to having a point of contact to her. Another quiet, shaky breath, this time with her mouth open. Not a sob to be heard.

Charon didn't have to see to know what she was doing. He was suddenly very glad that he was lying with his back to her. It wasn't so much her quiet sounds as much as the mental image his mind cooked up that made his mutinous body respond. Feeling betrayed by his body, Charon tried to rationalize. It was irresponsible for her to get off when she should be keeping watch. It was inappropriate for her to be touching herself when he was "sleeping" three feet away. At the same time... It was a natural bodily process she had every right to, especially if her nights of manipulation never left her satisfied. She deserved a moment like this, a moment of self-indulgence. She deserved it for all she did for the capital wasteland.

She inhaled, sharper than before, and the quiet sound sent electricity through Charon's hips. He gritted his teeth. She deserved peace and privacy to take care of herself, but Charon was, alas, only a man. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten off, much less the last time he'd been with a partner. She was going to drive him mad if he didn't do something. He needed to either get up and "take a walk", or, heaven forbid, pin her down and take care of her himself. An interesting fantasy, but Charon knew better than to truly consider the latter.

A walk it was.

"Pardon me," he said, sitting up and pinching what was left of the bridge of his nose. He could see her shape in his periphery, and had enough restraint not to get a better look.

To Victoria's credit, she didn't gasp or swear, just froze. It took her a beat too long to respond.

"I thought I was being quiet."

"You were. I wasn't sleeping."

Another beat of silence, then, "Why'd you listen for so long?"

Charon closed his eyes and cursed the name of every deity he'd ever heard of. He didn't have an answer for her. He wasn't about to tell her how he felt- not when he couldn't admit it to himself. She'd have to order the answer out of him if she really wanted it.

She did give him an order then, but not one he expected.

"Look at me." Charon, to his chagrin, didn't need any prodding from the contract to turn and face her. The damned fox still had her hand down her pants, staring at him with a curious expression, certainly devoid of shame. She was going to be the death of him.

"So now what?" Victoria said, narrowing her eyes slightly. When Charon had no response, she poked his leg with her foot. "Either you let me finish in peace, or you get over here and help me, because I'm not about to stop."

Charon was dumbstruck by the very thought that she would invite him touch her so intimately. He'd laid hands on her before, dressing her wounds and caring for her when she ate some bad bloatfly, but this had to be a joke.

"This has to be a joke," he said.

Victoria, the shameless fucking vixen, rolled her eyes and started moving her hand again. "Charon, you know me by now. My jokes are funny. And I don't see either of us laughing."

Her voice was husky with pleasure, and it was a different voice than he'd heard her use on her victims. It was a lure that many had fallen prey to, enough times that Charon could recognize when she was going to rob someone blind. This wasn't that tone, thankfully, and she still had Charon, hook, line, and sinker. She'd had him for a while. If she offered herself to him in search of her own pleasure, Charon was too selfish a man to refuse her. The chance to indulge himself in touching her would be more than enough for him. He'd walked through hell and back at her side, and he knew her well enough to know this wasn't about him. She'd gone long enough without satisfaction, and Charon was prepared to give her what she deserved. Maybe she already knew that.

He slowly moved to kneel in front of her and tentatively placed his hands on her knees. "What do you require of me?" He said far too professionally. As if she was going to order him around. He knew she wouldn't.

Victoria huffed a laugh and slipped her hand from her pants to undo her jeans. Her fingers left a shiny trail of wetness on the button. "Well, I've seen you take that shotgun apart enough times to know you're good with your hands..." She eyed him up and down and smiled. Charon was sure the uncomfortable tent in his trousers was already easy to see. "But if you're feeling particularly generous..." Victoria held his face with her clean hand, as gentle as a lover.

Her green gaze was mesmerizing as she lightly drew her two slick fingers over his bottom lip. Charon immediately followed, catching the pads of her fingers on his tongue. She greedily let him take her fingers in his mouth, and he watched her pupils dilate with a new thrill. Her thumb stroked his cheek affectionately, as if she was sweet on him. He closed his eyes against that fantasy and focused on the taste of her, warm and tart. Memories stirred from years long forgotten. No faces, no names, just knowledge- as solid as if he'd never forgotten. He knew how to please a woman.

Her fingers pulled from his mouth and he looked up reproachfully. Victoria just pulled the laces of her shoes and leaned back against her pack, one hand over her stomach, the other lazily resting behind her head. "Help me?"

It wasn't an order, but Charon wanted nothing more. He didn't rip her clothes off like a man starved. Charon had enough self-control, hell, enough _class_ to at least take his time. Her shoes came off first, socks too when he hooked a finger near her achilles questioningly and she pointed her toes and pulled them off herself. The sight and sound of him pulling the zipper of her pants was unexpectedly erotic. Her hands stayed where they were, but she did obligingly lift her hips when he pulled her pants down by the belt loops. The sensible black boyshorts she was left in were adorable, though Charon would sooner shoot himself than ever say that aloud. He didn't have to. Victoria was too perceptive for her own good.

"Like what you see then." It wasn't a question, and Charon didn't answer. Victoria narrowed her eyes again and spread her legs impatiently, hips already raised. He rid her of her underwear and laid himself between her legs, hands placed on her hips. She was already pink and wet from her previous ministrations, a veritable feast before his eyes. Victoria's hips canted upward toward him and it was an absolutely beautiful sight. He had no reason to doubt her true motives, but Charon had to be sure.

"You're not doing this for me."

Apparently he was full of surprises tonight, because again, she didn't respond immediately. Charon looked up to see her regarding him strangely, with a tilted head and wondrous expression. It was the kind of look she made when he said something she thought was delightfully unexpected- like he wasn't quite who she thought he was.

"No, Charon," she said eventually. "If this was for anyone but me, you'd be the one coming tonight." Her tone was decisive.

"Good." Charon held eye contact as he ducked his head to lick a long stripe from hole to clit. She tasted even better straight from the source. Victoria let her head fall to the side with a sigh.

Charon started slow with long, broad strokes with the flat of his tongue, exploring every fold she bared to him. His hands found their way underneath her, cupping her ass gently and urging her closer to his mouth.

When he broke away to press kisses and licks to her inner thighs, Victoria looked back at him impatiently. "What are you doing?" The question was not unkind, but confused.

"Shall I stop?" Charon asked, bold enough to lean his head against her thigh questioningly. She tilted her head, confused, but intrigued. Charon let her think about it, sucking gently on the soft skin of her thigh, keeping eye contact all the while. When he'd left a bright pink mark, stark against the white of her skin, she still hadn't answered. Charon lightly ran his hands over her hips, over the outside of her thighs. Carefully, experimentally, he bared his teeth and bit her- and promptly bowed his head to lick and kiss the spot apologetically when her lip curled and nose wrinkled. Her face smoothened and Charon brought his right hand over her hip to rub her clit with his thumb. She gasped and Charon shut his eyes and stifled a growl as the sound went straight to his cock. But this wasn't about him.

"I think," she finally murmured, "it feels nice. Just unfamiliar."

If Charon was a better man, his heart would break for her. But Charon was not a better man, and instead felt rage well up inside him. How dare anyone not treat this woman right. Victoria may not have the best intentions toward those she seduced, but that was no excuse for the injustice of depriving a woman of her share of pleasure. She deserved the worship of a lover and every other benefit that came with having one, and although Charon couldn't be that person, he could damn well pretend, if only for a little while.

Charon trailed tender kisses down the inside of her thigh until his mouth took the place of his thumb. His index and middle fingers ran under his chin, gathering her wetness. He sank one finger into her, then two when he deemed her receptive enough. Victoria whined at the stretch, but Charon was careful, thrusting and scissoring shallowly, slowly gaining depth. He teased the hood of her clit with the tip of his tongue, sealed his mouth over her and sucked, and licked languidly, and her body responded wonderfully. Her hips rolled with the rhythm of his mouth, working herself further onto his fingers, and Charon was inclined to let her take what she wanted.

He didn't thrust so much as he massaged, twisted, and curled his fingers. Charon was certain he'd never felt anything as soft as the inside of her, never heard anything as beautiful as her breathless moans. He lapped at her clit and crooked his fingers _just_ so, and her hips jerked with a high gasp. Charon answered with a low sound of his own, unable to stop himself from grinding his hips into the dirt. Victoria, for once, was too preoccupied to notice, or if she did, she chose not to remark on it.

Exploring her limits, he focused that spot inside her and ran his tongue in tight circles around her clit. Victoria's response was positively divine. Her back arched, hand moving from her midriff toward his head. Charon was sure she was going to push him away or hit him.

Instead, her fingers threaded through his thin hair, smoothing over his skull to encourage him closer. She did not push or tug. Her touch was gentle. She was giving him control. But she'd confirmed this wasn't about him. So either she was lying and letting him use her body like so many other ungrateful bastards, or she trusted him to give her what she needed.

Charon decided to believe it was the latter, and it made him all the hotter. Such a show of trust, allowing her guard down, allowing him to tend to her, having _confidence_ in him- it went to his head. He redoubled his efforts, quickening for just a dozen heartbeats or so.

The noise she made would play in his head for many nights to come. Not surprised, but high and breathless all the same; a heavy, heady sound of luxury and pleasure and _satisfaction_ , and Charon felt a possessive sort of pride. It was _he_ who coaxed these noises from her, _he_ who she felt she could surrender herself to.

Her next moan was muffled by her other hand, fitted over her mouth with her eyes screwed shut. Charon squashed down his disappointment. This wasn't about him, however, he eased off then, wanting to draw out her pleasure for not entirely unselfish reasons. He lapped gently upward, giving her clit only the barest of flicks. Charon withdrew his fingers to a tease, slickly circling her hole, occasionally dipping in for a shallow thrust or two. He expected her to complain, but Victoria's only rebukes were soft, pleading whines.

The hand she'd muffled herself with crept downward, seeking more stimulation. Charon caught it. Victoria opened her eyes at that, looking down at him with vulnerable confusion, and Charon met her eyes half-lidded, reverent. He'd always held that actions spoke louder than words, so he gently squeezed her hand and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her clit- a promise. He wasn't done with her yet.

To his surprise, Victoria's expression softened. She did not beg nor order when she uttered a quiet, "please." Her voice was surprisingly steady as she squeezed his hand back. She gave him a look full of need and _trust_ , and let her head fall to the side. Her hand smoothed over his head in a way that Charon was wary to describe as tender, but he would let himself believe it- just until this was over. Victoria deserved that much.

Charon tried to mimic that affection, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of her hand as he dipped his head to eat her out proper. Her walls tightened around the sudden, deeper insertion of his tongue. Charon wondered if she could feel his smile. 

He delved and lapped and sucked like she was leaking the finest ambrosia and he was a starving sinner. She tasted like warmth, salty-sour-sweet and so, so slick. Victoria hummed her pleasure, hips rolling smoothly to meet his mouth. Charon guessed that she couldn't come like this, and wondered if any of the suckers she'd conned had ever cared enough to notice. It was, perhaps, a blessing in disguise, because Charon felt he could spend hours between her thighs, pleasing her, pulling such beautiful noises from her. She inhaled deeply, a long gasp that was more leisurely than surprised. 

Charon had lost track of time when she squeezed his hand with a purpose. He looked up. She was beautiful. Her lips, half-parted, panted. Her eyes, pleading, wracked with need, pupils blown wide. _He_ had done this. This was _his_ handiwork, he thought proudly as her hand cupped the back of his head and urged him to focus higher. He complied without any resistance, sucking her clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue. 

Victoria _squealed._ Her hand pushed his face away, but her thighs closed so as to keep him close. "Too much-" she panted, "too much too fast..." 

Charon looked up at her from beneath her hand. She was _perfect,_ with her thighs clenched around his head, whining for him. It was absolutely erotic, the way she eased her thighs back open after a moment, her hand once again resting around the back of his head. 

He lapped at her, softly this time, apologetic. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, gently setting his mouth upon her. He tried to move with the greedy roll of her hips until he'd learned a pace. It seemed alternating between slow and heavy and fast and light really got her going. When Charon slipped two fingers in her again, she moaned short and high and her hips jerked. 

It was time. He'd kept her going long enough. She was breathing heavy, a faint gasp with every inhale, a moan or hum or whine on the exhale. It was a symphony of his creation, for no one else but him. But all good things must end. Charon drove his fingers deep and curled them forward. He latched onto her clit and his slow, heavy strokes grew to hard sucks and swirls. Her cries increased in pitch, spurring him on. Then her breath halted in her chest. Her hand squeezed his and her hips jerked, legs _trembling_ around his head. Charon felt her clench around his fingers and he looked up to see her eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream. He hummed appreciatively and the vibration made her call out in what was almost a sob. Charon worked her through her shuddering, gasping, long-deserved orgasm, slowing to soft, languid licks. His fingers stilled inside her, and he nearly lost himself in the residual twitches; the feeling of her throbbing against his mouth. 

When she finally pushed him away, she still had not fully caught her breath. He eased his fingers from her and quietly sucked them clean, one after the other, her palm still resting against his forehead. Charon let her catch her breath. With the act over, he knew it was time to return to reality. He wondered exactly how she would put herself back together- how she would separate herself from him once more. 

"...Charon," she said eventually. Her breathing had evened out; her thighs had relaxed and spread obscenely, and Charon was content, certain she was satisfied. 

"Yes, mistress?"

Victoria paused a moment longer than Charon expected. Hesitation. Apprehension. "Clean me up?" 

It was not an order. He was free to refuse, but the mere thought of doing so felt blasphemous, and Charon was too greedy a man to say no. Her hand eased off his head, and he followed it just enough to seal his mouth over her. Charon was fairly sure he couldn't be gentle with anything else in his life. He did not have the dexterity, the time, not the _care_ to be so gentle with anything- any _one_ \- but her. 

This was not about pleasure, not anymore, and he wondered why she would let him lick her clean. Really, it wasn't a request, but an _offer_. Perhaps the mistress was being generous- she could tell he was enjoying himself. But this wasn't supposed to be about him. Maybe she was just enjoying the aftermath- but she had hesitated to ask. He had no answers, and instead busied himself with licking the residual slick from her folds. 

Victoria's breath caught a few times, but she didn't have to push him away. Charon had the self-restraint to recognize when his job was done and back off. He wouldn't take advantage of her kindness and her body, like so many others had. 

Charon ducked backward from between her legs, intent on avoiding any unnecessary awkwardness. He hoped to make nothing of it, half in hope that she could truly relax, and half in hope that perhaps if it was no big deal, she might allow him to do it again in the coming weeks, months, years. That, and he didn't have the grace to escape awkward situations like she did. He didn't want to have to say anything, because it would inevitably come out wrong or be taken the wrong way. 

He tried to back away, back to his side of the smoldering campfire where he would take the rest of the watch- but she didn't let go of his hand. Charon gritted his teeth and felt a dark pit settle in his stomach. He looked up and Victoria was looking at him with dazed, half-lidded eyes, her face flushed. The corners of her mouth were quirked up in a slight smile.

"You." She spoke slowly, fuck-drunk, more sated than Charon had ever seen her. "You're good at that." 

Charon closed his eyes and dipped his head to hide the ghost of a smile. He could understand why she didn't allow herself any pleasure when she conned other wastelanders. He'd seen her drunk on alcohol, he'd seen her high on jet, neither made her look so positively blissful. Though he supposed those were far more common recreations. When he looked back at her, however, her smile and eyes had grown a bit sharper. 

"-sure know how to make a girl feel special, don'tcha?" She took a deep breath and let it out slow. "You don't know how much I needed that..." 

Her thumb twitched against his hand. She was watching him now, riding out the last of the post-coital high. It occurred to him that she was waiting for him to say something. Which was a terrible idea on her part, he thought. He had nothing she wanted to hear, he was sure. So he settled on something he hoped she wouldn't take offense to. 

"No, but I know how much you deserve it."

She looked at him in that way again- delightfully surprised, like she didn't know exactly what to think. Her jaw moved, as if testing the words out before they left her mouth. 

"What makes you say that?" 

Charon gritted his teeth. "Are you going to make me answer that?" 

The delight faded from her face. Victoria narrowed her eyes for a moment, then looked away. "No," she said, "-guess not." She released his hand. Charon kicked himself for how much he immediately wanted it back. He moved off and away from her with less grace than he wanted, and settled against his hastily-balled-up bedroll with his arms crossed, trying to look indifferent. She watched him curiously, with a painfully familiar look of passive curiosity, like she didn't _really_ care what he did. She didn't have to ask for him to answer. "Go to sleep, mistress." 

"It's my turn to take watch." 

Charon stretched to grab his shotgun to avoid looking at her. "Are you telling me I have not exhausted you?" It was a fairly bold statement, for him, considering the situation. It could be accusatory- had he not satisfied her? He wasn't so bold as to say it so bluntly. If she asked further, it would simply be a matter of being able to stay awake and alert for the watch. 

Victoria opened her mouth as if to argue, but seemingly thought better of it. "Fair point," she finally conceded with a pensive look in her eyes and crawled into her bedroll. 

Just when Charon was certain she was asleep, her foot shot out from underneath the blanket, searching. His sigh sounded more good-natured and affectionate than exasperated, to his chagrin. He swept his leg out until her foot was touching his calf and she stilled. Several minutes passed uneventfully, and then, so quiet Charon could barely hear it over the cracking of the dying fire, he heard her. "Thank you," Victoria whispered, "Charon." 

Charon's heart clenched painfully. He leaned forward to squeeze her ankle and pat it twice, to say what he didn't- _couldn't_ voice aloud. He didn't expect a response and didn't get one, apart from her light snores an hour later. 

Victoria wasn't a simple woman by any definition of the word. How Charon felt about her was even more complicated. But, he supposed, even complex people have simple needs, and though it might hurt, he was happy to help fulfill hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know if I missed any tags. Kudos and comments sustain me, so if you want to see more from me, let me know!


End file.
